Angels Puke...in Your Brain!

Oh. Wow.

My boyfriend is pretty fucking awesome. And, that’s the first time I ever called him my boyfriend because I am and continue to be so torn up about my 9 month long online relationship that tanked directly into the shitter. It wasn’t a betrayal in the exact same mode of a Tara Michelle, but it was a betrayal nonetheless on many, many multi-faceted levels that was the root cause of my pregnancy which frankly I’m TOTALLY happy about. I’m glad to be not involved with said dickhead (who is NOT the father of my child, who frankly I’m not all that involved with either) and happy to be in a (dare I say it or type it outloud and make it real?) relationship with someone I have met yet again from the Internet. The difference being this guy isn’t just filling my ears with bullshit and blowing sunshine up my ass; this guy has actually done the heavy lifting and flown back and forth to see me and helped me pick up the broken pieces of my heart and soul and basically done everything and more that he should to be my boyfriend. And, I just haven’t been able to say the words until now because I just didn’t want to open myself up to that world of hurt again and watch it all dissolve. This man is my boyfriend. We started a porn empire together too. He is totally made of awesome. He’s really good to me and for me. I don’t know what the future will bring, but for now…it’s enough. Baby steps.

So you know, online betrayal sucks, and it hurts, but there’s also the possibility that it will work out and be all cupcakes, porn, and roses, and you can’t ever give up and wall yourself off because you just don’t know which new person will be that awesome one that is actually real behind it all. Keep trying. Break all the rules. Do things people tell you are impossible and stupid. Take a chance. Do it because you can. Do it because only you define the limitations of your own reality, and even then, you should break those rules too, every now and then, so you don’t get locked into patterns of rote survival and habit.

This is the most I will ever type on my fucking Tumblr. I use this place like the junk drawer of my brain and my many online projects. I already have a fucking twitter; I already have a fucking blog (several). I will continue to flush my mind dump here. I have been moved to speak. Don’t let it go to your heads, and don’t expect this to happen too often. I have a million online presences like an onion. If you really want to get to know me, you can source me from the net and peel back every layer. It takes some work. It takes some effort. It weeds out the frivolous and the webcocks and the famewhores. it is not impossible. It is akin to cyberstalking. That’s ok. If I really give a shit about you, I’ll dig up all your personas and data from the web too. I despise Friendfeed because it is for lazy friends and lazy stalkers. Try. Try just a little bit harder. Dig just a little bit deeper.

Fuck, when did this turn into a rant? Ah well, consider this a post-it note hurriedly scribbled, stuck on the back of a uni-peg necklace and thrown into the junk drawer of my mind.